


Strangers Then Fiction

by vividemmajeannation



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Retired Katsuki Yuuri, Retired Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 03:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vividemmajeannation/pseuds/vividemmajeannation
Summary: AU -Following his retirement Viktor became a novelist, for his next novel he needs a reference, someone who knows the ins and outs of international INFORMATION COLLECTION (Christophe has strong opinions on the word spy). Luckily he knows a guy, who knows a guy. When he'd been given the meet up information to meet with the source he wasn't expecting to see a familiar face.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Strangers Then Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing in the fandom. That being said I've been obsessively reading this couple nearly exclusively. It's a one-shot right now but I've got a plot lined out for making this a multi chapter but we'll see where my muse takes me. If you like, please like or comment. 
> 
> Also this work in un-betaed so any and all mistakes are mine. Also standard disclaimer I do not own the characters in this work.

Yuuri Katsuki looked into the depths of the horrible mediocre overly sweetened abomination that was allegedly “coffee” and wondered (not for the first time) how was this his life? At thirty three Katsuki Yuuri was not once but TWICE retired. Both from his career as “Japan’s Ace” and Olympic gold medalist, and more pressingly and somewhat relevant to his current predicament from his OTHER job. Not that the second was a retirement per se...or a career for the matter, it was more of a hobby really. Admittedly a rather lucrative one, that had allowed him to almost single-handedly reverse Hasetu’s economic downturn. His family and friends were under the impression that his sponsors and competition winnings were responsible for his influx of funds and he was happy to let them think so even if it wasn’t entirely true. 

Shifting his weight in the ridiculously uncomfortable bistro table, Yuuri fought the urge to check his watch, his contact was late and in his line of work that was NEVER a good thing. Then again, this wasn’t work, he was retired after all, so this was more of a favor for a friend and if the request had come from anyone but Pichit he wouldn’t have even considered it. Which was likely why it HAD come from Pichit. Damn Christophe and his thorough knowledge of Yuuri’s inability to say no to his former roommates signature “pretty please” complete with puppy dog eyes. Thankfully Yuuri had developed an immunity to Christophe’s brand of persuasion while they’d still been in Juniors, a fact that had likely kept them from being arrested for public indecency on no fewer than 12 separate occasions. 

Adjusting his glasses, Yuuri absentmindedly turned the page of the book he was pretending to be engrossed in not that the book itself wasn’t compelling quite the opposite in fact he’d read it so many times he likely had memorized it at this point. The follow up novel of his (and everyone else's') favorite author Alexi Vincent. 

“Second in the series I believe, how did you like the first?” inquired a slightly accented voice. 

For once Yuuri’s didn’t have to fake his reaction, he was genuinely startled. Shocked less by the question than by the voice...he KNEW that voice, he’d recognize that lilt anywhere. He’d spent his formative years devouring ever interview that voice had ever given. Painstakingly teaching himself a language that had no similarity to his own, who’s owner’s image had adorned the walls of his childhood bedroom. 

Lifting his head to confirm his suspicion (read TERROR), he met the wide eyed aqua gaze of none other than Viktor Nikivorov. 

Of all the rotten luck. He’d dreamed of meeting Viktor informally hundreds of times and yet the opportunity had never quite materialized. On the occasions that they were in the same place, they’d been competitors, their schedules tightly managed by their coaches, their sponsors, and their fans. Never once in his wildest fantasy had he imagined running into Viktor in a small purposely nondescript coffee shop in Japan, while he was waiting to meet a friend of a friend that needed a source with a certain background to serve as a reference for the novel they were writing...the SPY novel they were writing. Which was why Yuuri agreeing to serve as a consultant of sorts had taken all manner of prodding from Christophe and Pichit and why it was imperative that he NOT draw attention at the moment. 

Any hopes Yuuri had of maintaining a low profile were effectively blown, while YUURI could blend into the background seamlessly when he so chose, the same could not be said for Viktor, and the two of them together (seeing 1 Olympic Gold Medalist instinctively made people wonder at who they were with and Viktor was a heck of a context clue). The two of them were already drawing attention judging by the number of glances aimed in their direction. Any rejoinder Yuuri might have ventured was rendered unnecessary by Viktor's awed gasp. 

“You’re Katsuki Yuuri,” smothering the impulse to wince at his complete loss of anonymity ,if the sudden chorus of whispers was any indication, Yuuri instead forced himself to smile. 

“I am indeed, and you’re Viktor Nikivorov.” 

“I am!!” Viktor all but beamed, “Oh this is the BEST day! I’ve always wanted to run into you outside of a competition and here we are! What are the odds?” 

Yuuri who had been proud of his ability to maintain some semblance of aplomb up until that point felt his face take on a gobsmacked expression. Viktor Nikivorov had been wanting to meet him?! In what world?

“Oh, but I’m supposed to be meeting someone and it took me so long to get them to agree to meet with me, are you local? Perhaps we can meet up later?” Viktor proposed, his tone inching towards pleading. 

For his part Yuuri felt a dawning suspicion.

“Who are you meeting? If you don’t mind me asking…” 

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. Christophe is the one who set it up but I really need their input on my latest project.” 

“A writing project perhaps?” Yuuri hedged. 

“How did you….” Viktor trailed off, eyes going impossibly wider as he began to connect the dots.  
“Yurri!! You’re...you’re a” to his credit Viktor caught himself before he finished the thought. 

“In a sense” Yuuri replied, resisting the urge to burrow furrow into his scarf.

“Wow!!! Amazing! Yuuri you’re even more impressive than I imagined.” Viktor gushed. “You must tell me everything I NEED to know everything” 

For his part Yuuri was bemused. He’d known enough of Viktor at a distance through Christophe to know that this “Ice Prince” persona was more or less a ruse, even so he’d never imagined Viktor to be so effusive and unreserved. 

“Although…” Viktor seemed to reign himself in eyes darting around and as if just noticing the attention they were garnering, “perhaps somewhere more private?” 

Finally succumbing to the urge to borrow into his scarf Yuuri willed his blush to subside before Viktor noticed it. Trying desperately NOT to think about the number of times his adolescent mind (not to mention his NOT so adolescent mind) had imagined Viktor Nikivorov saying those words to him..in markedly different circumstances. 

Noting the (adorable) pink tint on Viktor cheeks, we’d likely guessed the direction Yuuri’s thoughts had taken, or hopefully, he’d taken note of how his words could be taken out of context. 

“Just to talk!!! I promise.” Viktor hastened to add. “ I mean unless….no just talking no funny business.” 

I wouldn’t mind a little funny business Yuuri thought to himself, as he hastened to accept Viktor’s invitation before either of them embarrassed themselves further. 

“Private would be good….great even.” Yuuri interjected. 

“How about dinner?” Viktor asked, recovering his aplomb and flashing Yuuri his trademark patented smile. 

A smile which oddly didn’t reach his eyes. How had Yuuri had never noticed that before? He wondered. He’d seen that smile a million times, from up close albeit in in passing at competitions, at a distance in posters, on television, but here and now Yuuri felt less dazzled than he would have imagined and more concerned as to why VIKTOR NIKIFVOROV felt the urge to hide behind a mask. 

Well something else to talk about then, Yuuri resolved since apparently he was having dinner with Viktor Nikifvorov. 

“Dinner sounds great” Yuuri found himself agreeing, mustering every ounce of charm and pretend nonchalance he’d developed over the years “Only I’ll cook” he heard himself counter that way we’ll have some privacy, since apparently we have quite a bit to talk about.” 

“I’d love that!” VIktor replied once again, his taking on a slight shape that Yuuri found far more endearing that he had any right to. “Here” he continued sliding a sleek phone across the table to Yuuri. If you put your number in it, I’ll text you then you’ll have my number and you can tell me where and when to meet you.” 

Yuuri did so in a bit of a daze, as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket...Viktor Nikiforov has asked for his number. He had Viktor Nikiforov’s number!!! 

“Since we’ll be meeting again this evening and I’ve thoroughly blown our covers, Viktor said with a laugh gesturing to the small but steadily growing group of onlookers whispering and keeping a slight distance from the two retired skaters. Care to join me in greeting our adoring fans.” 

Normally Yuuri didn’t relish this part of his notoriety, most of his fans were lovely, but dealing with people was so overwhelming. However, looking up at Viktor and his outstretched hand smiling at him so warmly, Yuuri found that he couldn’t disappoint that face. 

“Sure thing.” Yuuri found himself agreeing and seeing Viktor's genuine smile trained upon him, the gentle pressure of his hand in Viktor's as he rose from his seat made it seem a small price to pay.


End file.
